


On Hope's Wings

by purajobot935



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Harm to Children, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Real Events, Natural Disasters, Original Character(s), Search and Rescue, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a natural disaster strikes, several Autobots are immediately sent to help with rescue efforts. As Jazz finds out however, its not always easy to stay focused on the task at hand, not when a mission becomes personal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Hope's Wings

Hope’s Angel

 

December 26th, 2004…. It was a day the world shook. Over in the Western Hemisphere it was still the eve of Christmas Day, and over at the Ark the small party came to an immediate halt as Teletran One’s alert sounded over the systems. The Autobots gathered, thinking at first that it was a sudden Decepticon attack, only to watch dumbfounded and helpless as towering walls of water crashed onto the shores of several countries situated along the Indian Ocean, sweeping away palm trees, properties and people. For a long while no one stirred or spoke. Then, voice only just above a whisper, Jazz said,

 

“Prime… we gotta do somethin’.”

 

That snapped Optimus Prime into action.

 

“Indeed,” he said. “Teletran, get me reports of and from every country those waves hit. If we’re going to help, we need to know the scale of what we’re working with. Beachcomber, Perceptor – find out the cause and if possible, try to determine if there’ll be any immediate aftermaths. The rest of you – stand by for further instructions, once we know what we’re dealing with.”

 

The two forenamed Autobots hurried off to gather the data requested by their leader. Hound and Wheeljack went with them to help. A few of the others logged on to some of Earth’s main news websites, while another group trotted off to the lounge to watch the news and do a little cleaning up while they were at it. The remaining Autobots stayed back in the Command Room to wait for Teletran to report back with information.

 

Over the next few hours, the numbers that began to roll in with each report, continued to grow bigger and bigger. News stations reported that the tidal waves had been triggered by a massive undersea earthquake that occurred just off the north-western coast of Indonesia’s Sumatra island – reports that were further corroborated by Perceptor’s group.

 

“While the immediate threat seems to be over, there is a possibility of some aftershocks, some of which could be dangerous to those countries immediately surrounding the epicenter of the original earthquake which, by the way, could rate a possible 9.0 or higher,” Perceptor informed the others. “This could very well be the fourth strongest earthquake in modern Earth history. It occurred when the Indo-Australian Plate started to push down against the Eurasian Plate. The resulting tidal wave happened when the Eurasian Plate snapped up again. Its fascinating how - .”

 

“Fascinatin’?!” Jazz cut him off, frowning. “There’s folk out there sufferin’ and you call it fascinatin’?!” The black and white sounded rather angry, which was not like his usual nature.

 

“Well, no, I don’t mean it like that.” Perceptor looked a bit flustered. “I was referring to the geological - .”

 

“It don’t matter right now. We should be out there tryin’ ta help ‘em, not standin’ in here and yappin’ ‘bout a whole buncha scientific mumbo-jumbo slag.”

 

Some of the others murmured their agreement. Prowl placed a hand on Jazz’s shoulder. Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“For once I agree with him,” he said, jerking a thumb in Jazz’s direction.

 

“It ain't that simple Ratch,” Ironhide spoke up. “We don’t wanna interfere if those countries don’t need our help.”

 

Jazz’s lips curled into a very uncharacteristic snarl. “Look at the screens man!!” he all but shouted. “Those are third-world countries! D’you think they care ‘bout politickin’ and red-tape right now?! They don’t have the resources or the man-power to help their own people and the least we can do is give ‘em a hand and help ‘em get started. The longer we stand here yakkin’, the more people are out there dyin’! Let’s get our priorities straight fer Primus’ sake!” His visor flashed for an instant, before he threw up his hands and stalked out of the room.

 

“He is right,” Prowl said in his usual calm tone, after a long moment of silence passed. “If we’re going to help, we’d either best go now, or not go at all.”

 

“But what about the Decepticons?” Red Alert asked. “Surely they’re not going to stop fighting us just because of some human disaster.”

 

Prime sighed. “I’ll try and talk to Megatron. Maybe we can negotiate some kind of truce.”

 

No sooner were the words out of his vocalizer when Teletran’s screen momentarily went dark. When it came on again, it held the image of Megatron himself.

 

“Greetings Prime,” he said.

 

“What’s this about, Megatron?” Prime asked.

 

“Are you aware of the disaster?”

 

“We are”.

 

“Then I am here to negotiate a truce.”

 

“Why, Megatron?”

 

“It appears that my Constructicons still retain a small fraction of their former selves, and have firmly requested that they be allowed to help in the initial search and rescue efforts in Indonesia.”

 

Prime raised an optic ridge. “You’re serious?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes, Prime…. And somehow I concur that most of you sentimental Autobots would also like nothing more than to run out there and aid the flesh creatures. So what say you Prime?”

 

“Why should I believe you Megatron?” Prime asked. “How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick.”

 

“You don’t,” Megatron sneered. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me. One month Prime.”

 

Teletran’s viewscreen went blank once more and then returned with more news reports.

 

“What do you think Prime?” Ironhide asked. “This ain't like them ‘Cons ta wanna help humans.”

 

“No, but then, if it was a trick, there’s nothing to be got out of it. Megatron knows we’d never leave the Ark unguarded while we’re away. I believe it could quite possibly be true – at least in the case of the Constructicons. They were not always evil.”

 

“In that case Optimus, Hoist and I would like to join them,” Grapple said. “We’ve always been on good working terms with them when not fighting.”

 

“Permission granted, but watch your backs. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten the last time.”

 

“Not for a moment,” Hoist said. “Thanks Prime.”

 

The two of them left the room. Prime turned back to Teletran One and pressed a few buttons. In moments he had Ultra Magnus on the viewscreen. He quickly explained the situation to the Autobot City Commander.

 

“I don’t think Megatron will try anything,” Prime said. “But all the same we’d best not let our guard down. I’m relying on you and the new arrivals from Cybertron to keep both the Ark and Autobot City safe. I know its not an easy job, but I know you wont let me down.”

 

“You can count on us, Prime,” said Magnus. “I’m only sorry that we cant go out and help too.”

 

“If anything happens, your help will be needed here. I’ll contact you at regular intervals to see how things are.”

 

“Roger that Optimus, Magnus out.”

 

“You’re not going to leave the Ark totally empty are you Optimus?” Red Alert asked as Prime turned back to the others, letting Teletran resume the news updates.

 

“No. I’ve already planned that out,” Prime replied. “I’d like Blaster, Perceptor and the Dinobots to remain and take care of the Ark.”

 

“You got it Prime,” said Blaster.

 

“Request Permission for Bluestreak to remain as well,” Prowl spoke up.

 

“But I don’t mind coming, really, I mean I could help and stuff and – ,” the gunner began nervously, eyeing the images on Teletran’s screen.

 

“I believe what we may come across in the disaster zones may be too traumatic for him,” Prowl went on

 

Prime nodded. “Agreed. Bluestreak, you may stay.”

 

Bluestreak let out a small sigh of relief and cast a grateful look at Prowl, who merely nodded back.

 

“So how are we gonna do this?” Ratchet asked. “Its already one in the morning and I’d like to fragging know what the frag we’re going to do so I can get some fragging sleep before we leave.”

 

“We’ll split up into teams. We probably cant save or help everybody, given that this disaster is spread over several territories, but we’ll do what we can. Silverbolt,” Prime turned to the Aerialbot commander, who stood in a corner with the rest of his team. “I want you and the Aerialbots to head to Somalia. You’re more familiar with that territory than the rest of us.”

 

“You got it Prime,” Silverbolt said. “C’mon guys, you heard the boss, lets get ready.”

 

Buzzing like a hive of bees, they left. Prime next turned to the few Minibots that were present.

 

“Get the rest of the team together and head for the Maldive Islands…. Hotspot, you and the Protectobots are to help out in Thailand. Its close enough to Indonesia that you’ll be able to aid Grapple and Hoist should they get into any trouble. In addition, Tracks, Skids and Smokescreen, you’re to head to the affected Malaysian coast. It wasn’t as badly hit as some of the other areas so you shouldn’t have too much of a problem, and thus you’re also free to aid the Thailand and Indonesian teams.”

 

“Roger that Prime,” said Hotspot.

 

“We’re on it,” said Smokescreen.

 

“You can count on us!” said Bumblebee.

 

The three teams filed out of the room.

 

“Prowl, I want you to take Jazz, Ratchet, the Twins and Skyfire to Sri Lanka. I believe that is the second-worst affected country after Indonesia. I will take Ironhide, Wheeljack, Inferno and Red Alert with Omega Supreme to South India and aid the search and rescue operations there.”

 

“Roger,” said Prowl.

 

“We’ll go let Jazz know,” said Sideswipe.

 

“And I suggest you all get some recharge while you can,” Prowl added. “We’re leaving tonight.”

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

So it was that the day after the disaster, Jazz found himself standing on a debris-scattered beach  in the southern Sri Lankan coastal town of Galle, gazing out across crystal clear blue waters – waters that, though calm now, had unleashed pure fury only a day before. At the moment, it was a beautiful afternoon with a bright sun overhead in a clear blue sky, and Jazz would have loved it if not for the scenes of destruction and devastation all around him.

 

The first thing Prowl’s team had done on their arrival early that morning was to search for any survivors among the wreckage of an express passenger train. Not only had the waves derailed the train, they had also been powerful enough to pull up and mangle the metal rails themselves. There had only been a precious few to save from it. After that, the team had further split up. Skyfire and the Twins had gone off to the northern and eastern part of the country to lend help there, while Prowl, Ratchet and Jazz remained. With no government aid to be seen as yet, much of the search and rescue work as being done by non-government organizations, volunteer groups from the city and survivors themselves. Therefore, they were all quite grateful for the Autobots’ assistance.

 

But the work in itself was utterly depressing. He’d left Prowl and Ratchet at the ruins of what used to be a large bus interchange and come down to what had once been a simple fishing village – only to find more scenes of death and misery.  So far, all Jazz had done was pull out body after body from the wreckage – most of them women and children. Women who had tried to save their children, children who had been too weak to outrun the waves. Whenever he stopped to rest from the physical labor, the emotional labor would begin.

 

Every so often he had to listen to a survivor’s tale of how they had survived but their families had not. Husbands mourning the loss of their wives, wives agonizing over the loss of their husbands, parents grieving over lost children; and Jazz could do nothing but offer a few words of consolement before going back to work again. Then every so often an anguished scream would cut through the air and he would look up to see a human wailing and tearing at their hair as they looked upon their dead loved ones.

 

Several times he’d been forced to stop working and wipe his optics as they filled with fluid, trying his hardest to ignore the cries of grief around him and focus instead on the task at hand. Prowl had come down later, and on seeing Jazz’s state – clearing rubble and debris in a sort of daze, without any thought for what might be lying underneath – the tactician had ordered him to take a break and pull himself together, or risk being sent back home. Since Jazz was the one who’d wanted to come in the first place, he had no choice but to do just that.

 

Yet, the emotional toll was starting to weigh down on his naturally cheerful spirit. He had never seen death and destruction on a scale like this before – not even in the wars on Cybertron. He shuddered, glad for the umpteenth time that Bluestreak had not come along. It was one thing to see the images on a screen, it was another to see them first-hand, and if Jazz was having problems with the current situation, he couldn’t imagine how Bluestreak – with his gentle nature and past trauma -  would have fared. It had been a good call on Prowl’s part.

 

Part of Jazz envied Prowl and Ratchet for being able to emotionally detach themselves from a situation so they could continue to work efficiently. While his own emotions enabled him to be incredibly empathetic and understanding to just about everybody, it had its disadvantages – especially in times like this where he often got caught up in a flood of feelings and he was forced to stop and find himself again lest he totally have a breakdown.

 

He shook his head and took in a deep breath of air as the wind blew in from the sea. The briny scent relaxed him and let his mind clear. Yes, he could do what he came to do and not get overwhelmed by the tumult of emotions around him. He just had to focus more on the helping and less on the feelings. Steeling himself, he turned from the sparkling blue water and faced the disaster zone once more. Treading carefully, he headed up the beach to where a group of fishermen worked to lift a fishing boat off the ruins of what was once a brick house.

 

Halfway there, Jazz suddenly stopped mid-stride, his sharp audios straining to catch the sound he thought he’d heard only an instant before. Again he inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself and block out all the other sounds around him – his audios strained to their limit.

 

“Please don’t let it have been only my imagination,” he murmured quietly.

 

There! There it came again. A whimper – a faint and barely audible one that human hearing would have most likely missed, but a whimper none the less. Now all he had to do was pin-point the sound to its source. Hoping that whoever it was that made the noise wouldn’t die before he got there, Jazz took a few cautious steps up the beach to where another ruined house lay, all his attention focused on that one sound. Again the whimper came, fainter this time, but closer. It had to have come from the ruins, he was sure of it. He quickened his pace, then dropped to his knees in the send beside the wreckage listening hard. He waited five minutes, but the only sounds he heard were the waves and the other humans in the background.

 

“I cant be going crazy,” he said to himself. “And I ain't hearin’ things either. There’s definitely something under there, I’d bet ma visor on it.”

 

He began to haul bricks, branches and strips of zinc sheeting out of the way. Finally he lifted up a heavy plank of wood and nearly dropped it again in surprise at what he saw underneath it – visor flaring in alarm, then amazement. Lying on the wet sand, face down, in a hollow formed by two wooden beams, was a child – a little girl he guessed, noting the long, black hair – clad only in a torn and dirty white vest and pink underwear. With a final heave he tossed the plank away, then knelt closer.

 

“Primus please,” he begged. “Don’t let me have come too late.”

 

Gently he touched her bare shoulder with the tip of his right index finger, fearing it to be cold and lifeless, but, though cold with the dampness of her surroundings, he felt a familiar warm tingle beneath the wet. Joy surged though his circuits as he hastily ran a scan over her.

 

“Thank you Primus,” he breathed. “She’s alive.”

 

At the sound of his voice, the girl shivered and weakly raised her head. Dull brown eyes met his visor and began to fill with fresh tears, and in seconds she started to cry pitifully. The sound stabbed into Jazz’s spark like a cold dagger.

 

“Sshhh, its alright darlin’, I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he cooed softly. “You’re safe now, I’m gonna get ya to some help. It’ll be okay.”

 

He dug his fingers into the sand beside her so he could get his hand under her and lift her out. then, cradling her in his palm as delicately as one would cradle a butterfly, he pushed himself to his feet. He held her to his chest to shield her from the sea breezes and looked her over. Apart from some cuts and scrapes on her arms, legs and body, she seemed to have no real injuries. One of the lucky ones. Apparently the hut falling over her had prevented her from being dragged out to sea like most of the other victims. As the girl continued to sob into his palm, Jazz gently stroked her hair, trying to think of some way to calm her down so he could get her to speak to him and maybe give him some basic information about herself, like her name for starters. Scared and traumatized as she was, he doubted spoken words would help soothe her, so he searched his memory banks and stumbled upon something he couldn’t believe he still remembered.

 

“Hey, young one,” he said as his voice took on a more melodic sound and he switched from speaking to singing.

 

 _“Lift up your head and smile_  
A new day’ll be here  
In a little while.  
The night will pass  
Just hold on tight  
And when its gone  
You’ll see the light  
So hey young one,

_Lift up your head and smile.”_

And as Jazz sang and smiled down at the little girl in his palm, she stopped crying and looked up at him, brown eyes still wide, but now with wonder, not fear.

 

“Hehe, like that did ya?” he asked. “Well, how ‘bout I see if I can remember the rest o’ that while I try ta get ya to someone who can help ya.”

 

So singing and humming alternately, he trudged up the beach, gently laying his other hand over her like a blanket; and completely mesmerized by the sound of his voice, she lay quiet, content with just staring up at him. Eventually he reached the main road and immediately headed to one of the relief tents that had been hastily set up to treat the injured. Jazz stopped by the opening and knelt down.

 

“I could use some help out here if y’all don’t mind,” he called.

 

A plump, middle-aged man stepped out and looked up at him. “What is the problem?”

 

Jazz lowered his hand. “I found her on the beach under some debris. Cant immediately see anythin’ wrong with her, but I don’t know for sure. Mind if I leave her here with ya?”

 

The doctor, or so Jazz presumed, pulled on a pair of spectacles and gave her a once-over. The girl squirmed, looking like she might burst into tears again.

 

“Sshh, its alright, you’re gonna be fine,” Jazz cooed.

 

The man straightened. “I’m afraid we cant take her in at the moment.”

 

“Huh?” Jazz blinked. “Why not?”

 

“We’re terribly under-staffed right now and we’re managing with only basic equipment. We are only taking in the most critically injured. She seems fine. You only have to clean up those surface wounds and keep her warm.”

 

“But… I gotta go back down there and keep lookin’ for survivors, I couldn’t possibly take her with me.”

 

“She’s better off with you than in here with us. A field medical unit is no place for a child. Keep her with you till you can find her parents or someone else who can take care of her.”

 

“Well can I at least get a blanket or somethin’ fer her then?”

 

The man called out something in the local dialect and another man came out with a length of cloth. The first man took it from him and handed it to Jazz. Then they went back inside the tent and Jazz stood up, frowning, as he carefully draped the blanket over her shoulders. He sighed. He knew the doctor was partially right – he couldn’t possibly leave her alone with all those other injured people, she’d be scared to death – and truth be told, he was starting to become quite fond of the little one. Well, if he was going to do this…

 

“Jazz to Prowl.”

 

“This is Prowl, what is it Jazz?”

 

“I found a survivor.”

 

He could almost hear the patient sigh in Prowl’s voice. “That’s nice Jazz, and I am sure there may be more, so keep looking.”

 

“Naw man, y’don’t understand. She’s a little girl and the human authorities wont take her in, said they’re too swamped with casualties.”

 

“Is she hurt?”

 

“She’s got some cuts and scratches on the surface, but nothin’ else that I can see. I was hopin’ Ratchet could - .”

 

“Negative. Ratchet is already up to his optics ferrying the injured to hospitals and other medical facilities. I’m sorry to say this Jazz, but we just cant drop everything for one little girl, the situation wont allow it. She is just another survivor that will have to manage on her own because right now she is not the top priority. I’m sorry Jazz.”

 

“I understand. Guess I’ll hafta think o’ somethin’ else.”

 

“Well think fast. There are others you need to help as well, not just her. Prowl out.”

 

The line closed. Jazz sighed and looked down at the girl who now sat up in his palm and looked right back at him. He smiled wryly.

 

“You’re not makin’ this easy fer me y’know that? On the one hand Prowl’s right – I cant stop workin’ just ‘cause o’ you. On the other – I cant just leave ya anywhere either.” He looked up at the sky. “And its gonna be night soon, ain't got much time ta think of anythin’ elaborate.”

 

During this time, the girl had somehow managed to stand up, albeit unsteadily, on his palm and now took a few shaky steps towards his thumb. Reaching it, she wrapped her thin little arms around it and pressed her cheek to its tip. Jazz smiled helplessly.

 

“Alright girl I get the hint, I’ll stay with ya. Just for tonight though. In the mornin’ we gotta find ya some place ta stay… and I still don’t know yer name. Don’t suppose y’d care ta tell me what it is.” He brought his hand up so she was level with his face. “What’s yer name li’l one?” he asked softly.

 

But all she did was cling even more tightly to his thumb with an expression that was close to a smile though not quite there yet.

 

“Hmm, I thought so. Well then, guess I’ll hafta give you a name myself then.” Jazz raised an optic ridge as he thought. “Ya seemed ta like my singin’ enough ta stop cryin’ so why don’t I name ya Sindhu – if I’m right, it’s the local word for song.”

 

The child looked up at the mention of the native word and her lips twitched.

 

“Ah, so ya like that name. Alright then, Sindhu it is.” He gently stroked her damp and matted hair with a finger. “Now we’d better get ya cleaned up a little. I ain't no Autobot Medic, and I know even less about human medicine, but if those cuts aren’t taken care of, they could get nasty.” He began to walk towards the shoreline. “I ain't got no medicine on me, but there’s always good ol' sea water.”

 

He waded carefully into the shallows, the waves lapping against his ankles, and knelt down. Unwrapping the blanket and subspacing it, he then gently pried the girl from this thumb and made her sit on his palm again. He looked her over carefully once more, noting every cut and scratch that would need to be tended. He also noted the tattered remains of the clothes she wore.

 

“Cant leave ya in these either.” He sighed. “This ain't really my place, what with you bein’ a young lady and all, so I hope you’ll forgive me for this, but if I don’t take these things off you, you can still get sick.”

 

Gently, Jazz stripped off the torn vest and underwear, then, scooping some water in his free hand – which was comfortingly cool – he let it trickle down her body.  Sindhu’s face scrunched up in pain as the salt water stung her wounds and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

 

“S’alright darlin’, just a little more an’ it’ll be all over.”

 

Jazz washed her as quickly as he could, then un-spaced the blanket and wrapped her in it as warmly and securely as he could. By now she had stopped crying, and he gently dabbed at a smudge the tears had left on her face as he trudged out of the water and back onto the sand. He walked in silence for a while till he found a dry patch of concrete that had once been the base of someone’s house. It was quieter and a lot less crowded than the rest of the stretch of beach, so he sat down there. The child lay on his palm curled on her side, her back to the sea and her face to him. The sky darkened, displaying a host of twinkling stars against it. Jazz gazed up at them, then back down at Sindhu.

 

“I think it’d be best if you tried ta get some sleep now li’l lady,” he said.

 

Maybe she really was exhausted, or maybe she did understand Jazz’s words. Either way, no sooner had he spoken when she let out a deep sigh, shut her eyes and fell instantly asleep. Jazz eased down onto his side as a partial shield against the wind and powered down some of his systems.

 

“Goodnight, little one,” he whispered.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Jazz awoke with a jolt the next day when Ratchet smacked him on the shoulder. Carefully he sat up, still cradling the little girl in his palm.

 

“What in Primus’ name are you doing here Jazz?” Ratchet asked.

 

“Mornin’ to you too Ratch,” Jazz replied. “I was gettin’ some shut down as you can see. What brings you round here?”

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way Jazz, but we’re here on a rescue mission. Just because you found one little girl doesn’t mean your work here is over. There are still hundreds of others out there waiting to be found.”

 

“I know Ratch, but what can I do? I cant just leave her by herself.” Jazz opened his hand, revealing her still curled on his palm. “She’ll die if I leave her alone. What would you do in my position?”

 

Ratchet sighed. He knew time was essential, yet, he was just as soft-sparked as Jazz was sometimes, especially when it came to little Earth children. Prowl would frown on this but…. “Alright. Take the morning off. You have till noon to find someone to take care of her, or we’ll have no choice but to leave her at one of the shelters.”

 

“Thanks Ratch.” Jazz stood and held out the girl to him. “Hold her while I transform will ya, then put her on my back seat.”

 

The medic did as Jazz asked, gently placing her inside the black and white’s Porsche form, shutting the door once he removed his hand. He patted Jazz’s roof.

 

“Remember, y’got till noon,” he said.

 

“I gotcha man, see ya later.”

 

Jazz started off, driving slowly through the debris-laden streets and back-lanes. All around people were slowly emerging from wherever they had spent the night to resume the search for survivors. He saw a group of young men struggling to right an overturned bus. Part of him almost wanted to stop and help them before he remembered little Sindhu asleep on the back seat. He pressed on, driving as fast as he could till he finally hit the main road that would take him out of the town. He had to think fast. Hospitals and schools were out of the question. They already had their hands full and one little girl would be so easily forgotten. No, he needed to find somewhere small and quiet, where she could be looked after properly.

 

A couple of miles from the town, on the land side of the road, he spied an old wooden signboard pointing the way to what he read as St. Mary’s Chapel. Without a second thought Jazz turned smoothly off the road and into a gravel lane that was just as wide as he was. He only hoped he wouldn’t meet a vehicle coming in the opposite direction. A delay now could cost him precious seconds. Thankfully, the was remained clear and two minutes later he pulled up in front of a small church. Apart from some debris and a palm tree lying half in and half out of the roof, the place seemed to be untouched. People were moving around inside.

 

Jazz worked his horn a few times and soon a middle-aged brown-skinned nun emerged. She looked around for a moment, then spotted the flashy white sports car. She hurried over to him and Jazz opened his front passenger door.

 

“G’day, my name’s Autobot Jazz,” he said.

 

“And I am Sister Lucia,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

 

“Well, I was wonderin’ if y’d be able ta help me out with the young lady asleep on ma back seat.”

 

The nun stared at him for a moment, then peered through the open door into the back. “Bless me!” she exclaimed. “What happened to her?”

 

“Found her on the beach under some debris. Couldn’t find no one to take care o’ her and didn’t wanna leave her alone anywhere either, but I cant take care o’ her ‘cause I gotta head back out there and help with the rescue efforts. Can ya help me, Sister?”

 

She looked back over her shoulder at the small church and the people behind her.

 

“There are a lot of people affected by this,” she said. “When the waves came in, a lot of people from the beach ran here to escape them. Their homes are gone now and until they can be rebuilt, we have to shelter them here. There are at least ten families inside right now.”

 

“I aint got anywhere else ta go,” Jazz said quietly. “At least I know she’ll be safe here.”

 

“Why is this important to you?”

 

“She’s ma hope. It aint pretty out there, and a lot o’ the time we’re just pullin’ out bodies instead o’ live people. I came here ta help rescue people and so far, she’s the only one I’ve found. At least knowin’ that’s she’s alive gives me a bit o’ hope that we didn’t come here just ta gather up the dead. That there may be more people alive if we just look hard enough.”

 

Sister Lucia smiled. “You have a good heart, Autobot Jazz. Alright, give her to me. I will personally care for her.”

 

“Thank you ma’am.”

 

Jazz lowered the front seat so she could reach inside.

 

“She’s only got a blanket on,” he said. “Her clothes were nothin’ but wet rags when I found her so I took ‘em off ‘fore I cleaned her up a bit.”

 

“I am sure we may have something among the charity donations.”

 

As Sister Lucia reached for her, Sindhu woke up, and startled, she scooted back on the seat till she was directly behind the driver’s seat. Her eyes filled again and she let out a frightened wail.

 

“Woah, easy now,” Jazz immediately tried to soothe her. “She aint gonna hurt ya, she’s just gonna take care o’ ya till I come see ya tonight.”

 

At the sound of his voice she quietened down enough for Sister Lucia to speak softly to her in the native language, carefully encouraging her to come towards her. Sindhu stared at her for a while, then looked around the car’s interior. Jazz guessed she was looking for him.

 

“C’mon li’l lady,” he said. “Go to the nice Sister, she’s gonna help ya.”

 

Again Sindhu looked around, and this time finally moved towards the other door where Sister Lucia as able to take her by the arms and lift her out. Once they were both clear, Jazz transformed and knelt beside them.

 

“Well done girl,” he said, smiling, and gently touched her cheek with his forefinger. “Proud o’ ya. You’re a brave young lady.”

 

“She seems fond of you,” Sister Lucia said. “What is her name?”

 

“Uh… heh… I don’t really know.” Jazz rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “She aint said a word from the time I found her so I called her ‘Sindhu’, since she kinda calmed down when I sang ta her.”

 

“The word for ‘song’. Are you a musician?”

 

“I used ta be, a very, very long time ago.” His smile turned a little melancholy. Then he looked over at the church. “What happened with the tree?”

 

“The water that reached us loosened the soil and brought the tree down. Luckily no one was hurt, but we have no one to help us move it.”

 

“Well, let me try.” Jazz stood up and went over to the side of the church. “Tell the people inside ta stand clear, I’m gonna try and lift it off.”

 

Sister Lucia went over to one of the side entrances and shouted to the people to move away from where the hole in the roof was. Then she looked at Jazz and nodded.

 

“Y’might wanna stand clear too,” Jazz said.

 

Once they were all at a safe distance, Jazz went over, put his arms around the trunk and heaved, using his considerable strength to lift the tree from the roof and lay it down along the ground. Then he summoned his photon rifle, set it to the lowest charge and deftly cut up the trunk into planks of wood, which he then used to cover the hole in the roof. Finally he stepped back and dusted his hands.

 

“There we go. It aint much, but at least it’ll keep the worst of the rain out till you can get someone ta come fix it properly. Y’can pass around the coconuts to the folk inside, an’ maybe they’d like ta use the leaves to weave those lovely li’l baskets y’all make.”

 

Sister Lucia crossed her right hand in front of him.

 

“Blessings be upon you, my friend,” she said. “Thank you.”

 

“My pleasure Sister.” He ruffled Sindhu’s hair. “You be a good girl a’ight. I gotta get back ta help Ratchet and Prowl, but I’ll be back later.” He walked over to the driveway and transformed. “Thanks again Sister,” he said and drove off.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

“You seem to be in a better mood today,” Prowl said as he and Jazz helped to load some debris into a dump-truck.

 

“I found someone ta help take care o’ the li’l girl I rescued yesterday,” Jazz replied as he dusted his hands and stepped back.

 

“That is good news,” replied Prowl. “It appears there are survivors appearing. Sunstreaker contacted us late last night to say that he, Sideswipe and Skyfire have been able to help some people too.”

 

“That’s great man! I knew we were right in comin’ down ta help.”

 

“Indeed,” Prowl agreed. “But we can only stay long enough to do some of the heavy work. By then, most of the human welfare groups should arrive to take over our job.”

 

“How long we got?”

 

“I’d say two or three days more, given our level of efficiency.” He led the way into what was once a large cricket stadium and went over to the fallen scoreboard.

 

Jazz went over to the other side and helped him lift it back into an upright position. “How’s Ratchet doin’?”

 

Prowl smirked. “Suffice it to say that he has put the fear of Primus into many of the medical teams in the area into doing their job right.”

 

Jazz chuckled. “Sounds like ol’ Ratchet alright.” He gazed around the stadium still littered everywhere with smaller pieces of debris. “This place used to host matches on an international level. Think they’ll ever play down here again?”

 

“They will, if they want to move on from this. My concern is how long it will take. An event like this can only hold the attention of the media for so long before it becomes old news. Once it loses front page status, these countries will start losing donations. People will start to forget.”

 

The Porsche frowned as he looked back at the road and saw a man half-dragging half-escorting a bitterly crying woman from where he knew the makeshift morgue was. He shook his head.

 

“For a mom who had her child ripped from her arms and swept out ta sea, she’ll remember this for the rest o’ her life,” he said. “This aint somethin’ ya easily forget, ya just don’t.”

 

Prowl went over and put an arm around the saboteur’s shoulders. “Only time will tell.”

 

Jazz smiled gratefully at him. “Time the healer huh? Just hope there aint more scars than it can handle.”

 

“Let’s get back to work,” Prowl said. “There’s still much we have to do before we leave.”

 

… Later that night, Jazz went back to St. Mary’s to check on how Sindhu was doing, and to see if Sister Lucia needed help with anything else. He was quite exhausted, but he couldn’t rest till he knew. He pulled in quietly up the drive and made his way round to the back of the church to where Sister Lucia’s quarters were. There, he transformed, knelt, and tapped softly on the door.

 

“It’s Jazz,” he said.

 

There was the sound of a lock turning, and the wooden door opened to reveal Sister Lucia standing with a candle in her hand.

 

“Ah, good evening Jazz,” she said. “How did it go today?”

 

Jazz grimaced. “Try explainin’ to a guy why one father got his son back, but his son’s lost forever. Or why we gotta bury the bodies in mass graves instead o’ givin’ ‘em back ta the survivin’ family members fer the proper funeral rituals.”

 

“A hard day for you, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’ll deal with it I guess. How’s the little one doing?”

 

“I managed to find some clothes to fit her and gave her something to eat, but she hasn’t spoken a word to me as yet. She may be too traumatized to say anything.”

 

“That’s what I figured,” Jazz agreed. “Just gotta give her a lotta time and a lotta love, an’ hopefully she’ll be able ta recover a little.”

 

At this point, a small form peered out from behind Sister Lucia’s robes. Jazz tilted his head to get a better look at her and was rewarded with a small smile of recognition, before Sindhu ducked shyly behind the taller nun again. Sister Lucia chuckled.

 

“Well, she likes you well enough,” she said.

 

Jazz smiled, still looking at Sindhu who continued to peep at him. “You should be sleepin’ young lady.”

 

Sister Lucia translated what he said into the native language and the little girl quickly backed up a few steps before disappearing behind a curtain.

 

“Bless me,” said the woman. “I’ve been trying to get her to bed for the past half an hour, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I guess she likes you more.”

 

Jazz shrugged sheepishly. “She’ll get used ta you soon I’m sure. I hope she does, ‘cause I aint gonna be around much longer.”

 

“Well, we will deal with that when the time comes. You should go and rest now too, you look exhausted.”

 

“Yeah, I will. Goodnight Sister.”

 

“Goodnight Jazz.”

 

The black and white stood and transformed back into car form. Then he reversed into a darkened patch close to the small house, where he shut down for the night, letting the quiet sounds of the rural surroundings slowly lull him to sleep.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Three evening’s later, on New Year’s Eve, five days after they’d all arrived to help with the rescue efforts, Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sat on the ramparts of the old Dutch fort in the southern city of Galle, looking out to sea, their legs dangling over the crystal clear waters. All were silent as they watched the sun creep slowly towards the edge of the horizon.

 

Sideswipe shifted and gently rested his head on his brother’s shoulder; and for once, not caring who saw, Sunstreaker put an arm around him. Jazz glanced at them and all it took was one look at their optics to know that they’d seen their own fair share of horrors.

 

“Y’know that old woman I rescued from where the waves had dumped her on top of someone’s roof, Sunny?” Sideswipe asked.

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Sunstreaker replied. “You jet-packed up and yelled ‘we’ve got a live one’.”

 

“They told me she died, just before we left.”

 

“Oh… I’m sorry Sides.” Sunstreaker shifted. “I found a whole family washed up on the beach. Parents and four young children. The kids’ grandfather had to identify them.” He shook his head. “He kept asking me why they had to die while he was still alive.”

 

“Death is not easy to explain to someone,” Prowl said. “Especially not death on this level.”

 

Ratchet grunted. “Had a pregnant woman give birth while I was rushing her to the hospital. Thank Primus I had a doctor riding with me. She was trying to stop the baby from coming out ‘cause she said she had no home left, or any money to buy milk for the newborn.” He crossed his arms. “Don’t know what happened to her and the baby after I dropped them off. It was a boy.” Then he looked at Prowl. “Are you sure its okay for us to be going off? A lot of these people still need help.”

 

“The humans’ aid agencies are starting to arrive. We would just be in the way. Prime also said that it was time they started relying on their own kind for help, not just us,” Prowl replied.

 

“And Megatron’s probably itchin’ ta get his own war started again,” Jazz added. “The humans got their jobs to do, and so do we.”

 

“Speaking of humans, what happened to that little girl you found, Jazz?” Sunstreaker asked.

 

Jazz was silent for a moment, his visor reflecting the rays of the setting sun. he’d been at St. Mary’s a while ago, just before meeting up with the others to wait for Skyfire, saying goodbye to Sindhu and Sister Lucia. Both were sad to see him go, Sindhu especially. She was still not speaking, but the tears in her eyes were enough to melt Jazz into gently picking her up and bringing her closer so she could give him a hug. Her tiny arms could barely go around his neck, but hug him she did. After putting her back on the ground, she’d reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper which she’d held out to him.

 

Now he looked at the piece of paper in his hand, still folded, and for reasons unknown, he was hesitant to open it up.

 

“Jazz?” Sunstreaker asked again.

 

“She’s being taken care of at a church nearby,” he said. “The nun in charge is looking after her personally, but I’m a bit worried about the effects this whole thing will have on her psychologically. She aint said a thing since the day I found her.”

 

“Kids are tough Jazz,” Ratchet said. “Given the right environment, she’ll be alright.”

 

“Whatcha got in your hand there Jazz?” Sideswipe asked.

 

“Oh.” Jazz looked back at the paper. “Something she gave me.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I don’t know. I ain't looked at it yet.”

 

“Well, sometime this year would be nice,” Sunstreaker said.

 

“That’s not saying much considering this year will be over in about five hours from now,” said Prowl.

 

Jazz, meanwhile, carefully unfolded the piece of paper and revealed a child’s crudely done picture, drawn and colored with some crayons. The back ground was divided in half and scribbled haphazardly in two shades of blue. On the upper, light-blue half of the paper – which Jazz assumed was the sky – was a black and white humanoid form with large, yellow, feathery-type wings sticking out from its back. Its arms were outstretched and lifting up a little brown-skinned, dark-haired girl above the lower, dark-blue half of the paper. In a corner, just behind the little girl in the middle, the dark blue curved into a wave, the crest of which just brushed her toes.

 

In the empty space, in the upper right-hand corner of the paper, was scrawled in the native alphabet the words for ‘Thank You’.

 

“Yeah,” Jazz said, his face breaking into a wide smile. “She’s gonna be just fine.”

 

 

~END~

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after the Dec 2004 Asian tsunami. Before moving to Singapore, I lived 19 years in Sri Lanka, and still have some family there. While my own town was not affected, despite being along the coast, other places were not so lucky. I mostly wrote this so I wouldn't feel so useless being unable to do more than send money to the charities set up to help.


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